


The Liquid Of Life

by Joxie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cutting, Knifeplay, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joxie/pseuds/Joxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood was the question and the answer.  Warning cutting and blood.   Wrote 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Liquid Of Life

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

The Liquid Of Life

Sam took the knife and pressed it against the skin of his arm a red line of blood blossomed behind it. As the knife moved slowly cutting a pattern into his flesh.

A sigh escaped from his mouth as the blood dripped from his arm. It always came down to blood in the end whether drinking it or spilling it blood was the question and the answer.

Sam closed his eyes and brought the mutilated flesh to his trembling lips and lapped at the self-inflicted wound. The tang of his own blood bitter and yet soothing to his tattered soul.

This was penance this was calm in the midst of the storm that his life had become. This was the least he could do the least he owed to so many.

Sam pushed the tip of his tongue into a slice of flesh taking dark pleasure from the sting of pain and welcoming it. His teeth nipped around the cut intensifying the moment, prolonging it and bruising the tender flesh.

He had never been told he couldn’t enjoy it so made it just another guilty secret to share with his brother. Who waited patiently to tend the wounds and fuck away the torment however briefly. Until the next cut, the next spill of blood answering unasked questions.


	2. The Spirit That Soothes

The Spirit That Soothes

“Why the fuck do you do this Sammy?” Dean held the mutilated forearm firmly exposing the damaged flesh.

“Makes the world go away” Sam wouldn’t look at him.

“This is going to need stitches” Dean dropped Sam’s arm and went to get the medical kit.

Sam sat on the nearest bed “Sorry” and at that moment he was and needed Dean to acknowledge it.

Dean didn’t comment instead he began cleaning the wounds with alcohol listening as Sam hissed at the pain that ran through him like lightening. 

“Do you think I enjoy seeing you like this” Dean tossed the cotton wool into the bin and went onto sterilize the needle before threading it.

He sat beside Sam and took hold of his arm and began to carefully stitch the flesh back together “Haven’t you got enough scars what is it with you and guilt.”

“You can talk” Sam grunted as his brother jabbed the needle into his flesh forgetting for a moment that he didn’t need to hurt Sam when he was quite capable of doing it himself.

“Sorry” Dean muttered under his breath and finished repairing him in silence.

He was pressing a sterilized pad over the new stitches to protect them when Sam spoke “I don’t know it helps when the shadows grow too long and I can hear them.”

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Jess, Mom, Dad all the people we didn’t save and you” Sam had a wild look to him.

“I’m still here I’m not dead” Dean smiled “well not yet” he tried to joke.

Sam didn’t appear to notice and asked “But for how long?” 

“I’ll always be there for you Sammy” Dean promised even though he knew there was every chance his vow could be broken.


	3. Drawing Blood

Drawing Blood

“Do you give them names?”

Sam looked down at the knives and then back up at Dean “No” he answered uneasily. 

“I bet you do.”

Sam closed his eyes “I don’t that would be…” his words trailed off and he bit his lip.

“Yeah you do” Dean picked up the largest knife “how about this one? Let me guess” he pretended to think “Dad.”

“Mom you bastard” Sam gasped between one breath and the next.

“Mom never hurt you Sammy” Dean examined knife in question.

“She left us” Sam said looking lost.

“Mom was taken from us there’s a subtle difference” Dean argued “Mom wouldn’t want this for you.”

Sam took the knife from Dean trembling fingers and looked down at it almost lovingly “She looks after me.”

“No Sammy” Dean said under his breath picking up the next knife.

“That’s Dad” Sam nodded towards the knife now in Dean’s hand “never around but still sort of looking after us.”

“He did look after us” Dean protested “he did it the only way he knew by training us we were his world Sammy.”

Sam smiled though it wasn’t a happy one and gestured to the last knife lying on its own on the bare table “That’s you Dean.”

Dean swallowed “When did I draw blood?” Sam refused to answer him.

“What did I do?” Dean paused “Or what didn’t I do? Stanford? Really? You left me Sammy.”

Dean placed the knife he held back on the table and reached out for the one Sam still had “Hand it over” he demanded.

When the three knives were back on the table Dean looked Sam in the eye “These belong to me now” he pointed towards the knives.

“When you feel the need you come to me and I decide what you get understand?” Dean waited ready to argue if need be.

“Fine” Sam relented and gave control to Dean “into your hands.”

Dean let out a breath “I’ll look after you Sammy.”

Sam ducked his head and made no comment.


	4. Salt And Tears

Salt And Tears

“My time of the month” Sam tried for humour while his eyes fixed on the knife resting in Dean’s steady hand. 

“Always said you were the girl of the family” Dean looked down at the knife as well “this isn’t right Sammy.”

“You promised” Sam reached out and touched his cheek “Dean.”

He pushed his feelings of unease and guilt deep down “Okay Sammy.”

Dean breathed in and said “Kiss Mom” he pressed the blade to Sam’s lips. 

Sam’s eye lids fluttered and he did as he was ordered.

“Remove your shirt” Dean told him and sat on one of the beds. 

He spread his thighs and gestured saying one word “Kneel.”

Sam neatly folded his shirt and placed it on the bed by Dean’s side. Then for a man of his size he sank gracefully to his knees between Dean’s legs.

“Give me your arm” Dean gripped Sam’s wrist when he obeyed.

Gently he ran the tip of the knife from Sam’s shoulder to just below the elbow. Pressing the tip of it into the flesh to test it and causing a pin prick of blood to appear.

Concentrating he cut downwards not going to deeply but not so shallow that there was no blood. Sam sighed and Dean paused for just a moment before carrying on, he finished the trio of cuts he had decided was appropriate. The three short stripes oozed red tears before he let go of Sam’s wrist.

“Is that enough?” Dean asked unsmiling.

Sam gave a quick nodded and brought the bloody flesh to his mouth and carefully lapped the salty liquid.

Dean went rigid at the sight before he slowly reached out and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair “Jesus Sammy” he muttered.

“Sorry” Sam told him lips stained with his own blood.

“I know” Dean leant forward and took his face in both hands and kissed him “let’s get you cleaned up” Sam nodded again.

Through the night Dean held onto his brother and prayed for the first time since he was very young “Cure Sammy” he chanted and added “Not for myself please God not for myself.”


	5. A Cutting Glance

A Cutting Glance

“You can do this” Dean promised Sam.

“I’m not strong enough” Sam told him unable to meet his brother’s eye.

“You are” Dean contradicted him promptly.

Sam shook his head and replied weakly “No.”

“Yes” Dean returned firmly.

“You’ve always been my strength” Sam whispered.

“Then use me” Dean told him.

“It isn’t right” Sam threw the knife from him and it stuck in the door frame.

“Then why have it done to yourself?” Dean asked quietly and went to retrieve the knife.

Saying nothing Sam watched as Dean rolled up one of his shirt sleeves, he exposed a muscular unblemished forearm. Dean pressed the blade against his own flesh and gave Sam a probing look.

“Here we go” he stated a slight smile on his lips.

There was a flurry of movement as Sam went for the knife, he nicked Dean’s forearm as he removed it from his grasp “No” he exclaimed his voice hoarse with emotion. 

“Why Sammy?” Dean looked down at the blood welling from the small cut on his arm “Why not me?”

“You don’t deserve it” Sam told him passionately.

“And you do? That’s bullshit and you know it” Dean held his arm out to Sam “Winchester blood.”

Sam turned away from him the knife heavy in his hand with Dean’s blood still wet on the blade. Deliberately he let it drop to the floor.

“Okay” Sam said and looked at Dean “okay.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way but I can’t do it for you” Dean paused “I only wish I could.”

“It’s not your cross Dean” Sam picked the knife up again “it’s time to man up” the last words were directed solely at himself.


	6. Burning Bridges

Burning Bridges

The field was bare of grass and its trees looked half dead. Somehow Dean thought it was a very appropriate place to dispose of the knives. Between the two of them they filled an iron brazier with wood, paper and the odd lump of coal. Sam then laid his knives on top of it wrapped up in one of his old tee shirts.

“Final words a tear or two” Dean blinked innocently at Sam.

He was rewarded with “Fuck you.”

Sam lit a twist of paper and pushed it under a few pieces of wood. It caught alight the flames engulfing his dreams and nightmares. Side by side they watched as the tee shirt burnt away and the knife handles turned to embers and then ash.

Silently Dean left Sam to stare into the flames eyes fixed on the three blades. The fire was doing its job thoroughly the metal softening in its raw heat edges blurring in the dancing hungry flames. 

Sam was lost in deep thought he didn’t really know how he should feel there was no relief or surge of foreboding, just nothing he was numb. Dean thrust a bottle of beer at him and it startled him out of his brooding.

“Feels like we should be toasting marshmallows” Dean stated before taking a drink of his own beer.

“Ass” Sam commented.

The smoke tickled Dean’s nose “You okay?” He asked.

“I think so” Sam replied without looking at him.

“Good” Dean was studiously casual in tone and appearance.

“I’m not made of glass” Sam snapped his eyes flashing.

“Never said you were” Dean snarled back and then took a breath “I’m trying Sammy good god I’m trying.”

Sam forced a smile “Yes you very often are.”

“Funny” Dean replied though he looked a little more relaxed.


	7. Manicure

Manicure

Who would believe you could do so much damage with just your fingernails? But there was the proof staring Dean right in the face. Sam’s arms were scratched and torn up horrifically, blood smearing as it still dripped from the wounds.

Sam looked at Dean his features drawn and skin pale “I’m…” No other words made it past his bloodless lips.

The medical kit was scattered over the bed as Dean cleaned the wounds. The pile of cotton wool balls mounting up on the bedside table at an alarming rate. He pressed large adhesive pads over the worst gashes to protect them. The rest he left uncovered as they were superficial even though they still looked angry and red.

“Don’t hate me” Sam found his voice and it was loud in the silence of the room.

“Get into bed I’ll bring you some soup” was all Dean said.

“Please Dean” Sam’s eyes were unnaturally bright with tears.

“Bed” Dean repeated and when Sam didn’t move continued “you want to talk then talk.”

“I was desperate” Sam’s voice was strained “I’m sorry.”

Dean glared at him “Why didn’t you talk to me? I’m not Mr. Sensitive but I’ve always listened to you Sammy.”

“Didn’t want to disappoint you again” Sam bit his lip “it’s still there Dean and sometimes” his words trailed off into silence.

“I don’t know how to help you” Dean confessed “I thought I did but you need…”

Sam interrupted him “I need you don’t send me away please Dean.”

“Never entered my mind” Dean told him “now get your ass into bed.”

This time Sam did as he was told he even ate the soup he was handed several minutes later. Though he only truly relaxed when Dean climbed into bed and pulled him into a strong comforting embrace. 

“I’m sorry” he murmured tiredly.

“Stop apologizing Annie” Dean ordered gently “tomorrow is always a day away.”

“Why am I always the girl?” Sam asked sleepily.

“Type casting” Dean whispered not minding the pinch his ass got instead of a reply.


	8. Stepping Stones

Stepping Stones

“So?” Dean asked. 

“So what?” Sam responded with little interest.

Dean replied bluntly “Do I need to trim your nails and buy you a pair of mittens?”

Sam flinched and looked away “What can I say?” He muttered.

“It’s time you found something to say Sammy under other circumstances I can’t shut you up” Dean’s tone was exasperated. 

“I don’t know why I do it” Sam paused before going on “I could blame Dad, you or even Mom but the plain fact is I just don’t know” he ran out of words like a clock winding down.

“Sammy” Dean began just as his brother opened his mouth again.

“Deep down it can only come from me” Sam said as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“I want to help you” Dean said without a great deal of hope.

“You already do” Sam told him “if I didn’t have you by my side I’d have given up long ago.”

“Should I go back to cutting you?” Dean asked reluctantly. 

“No” Sam shook his head “I really do want to stop” he looked at Dean “it’s just so difficult.” 

“Good” Dean approved pulling something from his jacket pocket and smoothly throwing it to Sam who instinctively caught it. 

“What’s this?” Sam examined the bracelet which was made of black polished stones “I don’t wear jewellery” he wrinkled his nose.

“You do now put it on Sammy” Dean watched as he did just that.

“Now what?” Sam enquired with interest. 

“This” Dean took hold of Sam’s arm and snapped the elasticated bracelet against his wrist making him jump “every time you get the urge do that instead.”

“Really?” Sam fiddled with the bracelet experimentally.

“You got any better ideas?” Dean asked a glint in his eye.

“No just didn’t think you’d come up with something like this” Sam snapped the bracelet and grimaced “that stings.”

“That’s the whole point of it” Dean told him “less damage as well.”


	9. A Fact A Feeling And Hope

A Fact A Feeling And Hope

“Rough diamond” Sam slurred staring at the motel rooms dirty carpet.

“What?” Dean asked not to sober himself.

“Needed to be cut and polished” Sam giggled and reached for another beer.

“I’m cutting you off” Dean made a grab for Sam’s beer and missed.

“Cut, cut, cutting” Sam sang out and took a long gulp of his drink.

“You stopped that shit didn’t you?” Dean’s speech was slow and deliberate.

“Yeah” Sam grinned “the bracelet of doom” and he snapped it against his wrist.

“Never your fault Sammy Mom started…” Dean’s words ended abruptly.

Sam went very still “Started what?” The words just tumbled from his mouth.

“Don’t do this Sammy” Dean whispered closing his eyes momentarily.

“Dean?” Sam put his beer on the table his full attention was on his brother.

Seeing no way out Dean frowned unhappily “She made a deal with yellow eyes.”

“What! Why?” Sam looked betrayed and confused.

“Dad was killed she…” Dean continued helplessly “she loved him.”

Sam stood up swaying slightly “Mom” the word was desolate “oh God” he hit the floor before Dean could even move.

The morning light came weakly through the motels threadbare curtains. Sam was sat on the side of his bed clutching his aching head memory assaulting him without pity. He glanced over to the other bed where Dean appeared to be still sleeping.

Breaking the allusion Dean opened his eyes and said “You okay?”

“Yes I am” Sam replied and as he said it he realized it was true and aching head aside he felt hopeful for the first time in an age.

“Coffee” Dean groaned forcing himself from his bed.

Sam smiled.

 

 

The End


End file.
